


A Non-Comprehensive List of What (Not) to Do Plebe Year

by sppacecowboyy



Series: Leonard H. McCoy and James T. Kirk vs. The Starfleet Agenda [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Angst, Bullying, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Jim is a Little Shit, Lovers to Friends, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pike is such a dad, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Slow Burn, Starfleet Academy, Tarsus IV, endgame Jim and Bones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 08:24:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15069140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sppacecowboyy/pseuds/sppacecowboyy
Summary: Neither Leonard McCoy nor James Kirk knew what they were doing when they signed up for Starfleet Academy, which makes these two overqualified but underprepared plebes perfect (or maybe not) roommates. Aside from the stress of their classes, Jim and Leonard will have to face pranks, drama, computer malfunctions, relationship issues, and--perhaps worst of all--living with each other.But hey, if they wanna be able to survive five year missions in deep, unknown space, first they've gotta figure out how to survive freshman year at Starfleet Academy (and also maybe each other's company).(not actually a list fic, lol, but i like the title XD)





	A Non-Comprehensive List of What (Not) to Do Plebe Year

_"Sir, for your own safety, sit down. Or else I'll make you sit down."_

Jim looks over at the commotion, spotting an apparent new cadet in even worse shape than him. Okay, well maybe not quite. But at least Jim's not the only one on this shuttle who both looks, and most likely smells, like they're not supposed to be here. Him and this other guy seem to be the only two on the shuttle not already in possession of a uniform; he's sure last minute sign ups happen, but probably not this last minute, not usually. Jim kind of wants to know what dive bar they dug this other guy out of, whether Pike gave him a similar speech.

The doctor--of course Jim knows he's a doctor, not by any Sherlock Holmes shit, just that the whole shuttle probably knows by now, what with how loud he was shouting--finally seems to calm down at least a little, just enough to accept that he has to take a seat, and he makes his way over to the empty one next to Jim.

"I may throw up on you," he says, fumbling with his seat buckle.

"Y'know, I think these things are pretty safe."

"Don't pander to me kid, one tiny crack in the hull and our blood boils in thirteen seconds," the stranger tells him gruffly. Jim gets the impression he's determined to remain as stressed out about this as he possibly can. "Solar flare could crop up, cook us in our seats. And wait 'till you're sitting pretty with a case of Andorian Shingles, see if you're still so relaxed when your eyeballs are bleeding...Space is disease and danger, wrapped in darkness and silence."

And maybe Jim's revisiting that earlier thought about this guy being in even worse shape than him. Because yeah, his decision had been an incredibly impulsive one, but he wasn't signing up for a space based organization with a phobia of...well, space.

"I hate to break this to ya," Jim says, glancing over with some concern. He's being sarcastic, sure, but he's honestly a little worried for this guy. "But Starfleet operates in space."

"Yeah, well I got nowhere else to go. Ex wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce," he says, taking out a flask--how did he even sneak a flask on board, Jim's sure Starfleet wouldn't approve of their new recruits already being drunk. On that note, Jim's starting to like this guy. "All I got left is my bones."

He offers Jim the flask, and Jim accepts, raising it a little and introducing himself, "Jim Kirk."

"McCoy," Jim's new friend says. "Leonard McCoy."

McCoy doesn't really talk much the rest of the shuttle ride, nervous about space and flying and probably this big decision he's just made last minute. Jim's a little nervous, too, not that he'll ever admit it as nerves. Because really, nerves can either mean something really bad is about to happen, or something really good. He hasn't decided which one this is yet, he's hoping for the latter. But he talks to McCoy for most of the rest of the time spent sitting next to each other; both probably using the other as a distraction for their uncertain minds. McCoy's gruff and has a lot to complain about, which Jim finds kind of entertaining, and he doesn't seem to approve of the blood stains on Jim's shirt. Jim finds himself laughing at a couple of his jokes, though, and he even laughs at a couple of Jim's.

Not to mention, to his credit, McCoy doesn't end up throwing up on Jim. Which is a relief, because Jim already has to wash blood out of this shirt. But in all honesty, when they get off the shuttle, Jim's not really expecting to ever see this dude again.

Not that he doesn't want to; like he said, McCoy's funny and he thinks there's probably a nice guy hidden under that gruff exterior. But Starfleet Academy is a big, big place. Jim's surprised people don't just get lost there all the time. And besides, he's used to people just sort of coming and going in and out of his life, it's almost weirder to think someone might stick around. So no, he's not really expecting to see McCoy ever again. Hell, they'll probably both have forgotten about each other by the end of the week, what with how hectic their schedules will probably be.

But it does occur to Jim when he steps off the shuttle...he has no clue where he's supposed to be going. The rest of the cadets seem to already know roughly where they're meant to go, just like they seem to already know roughly just what the hell they're doing here.

"Shit," Jim murmurs, watching the flurry of red uniforms around him, then turning to look at the campus they've just arrived at. It's enormous and, honestly, beautiful. There's a little tingling in the back of Jim's head that he doesn't recognize as hope, although that's what it is. But the place is also incredibly busy, cadets and professors heading this way and that, shuttles landing, tall buildings and people talking. It could take forever for Jim to find out where he's supposed to be. He sighs, "I really didn't think this through."

"Something tells me that's a habit of yours," a familiar voice says.

Jim turns around, a little relieved to see Captain Pike standing there with what Jim would call a friendly smile on his face, except for they're not friends. Still, Jim mirrors the grin, taking a few steps closer. Jim makes air quotes with his hands and says, "'Leaping without looking.' I thought you approved."

"It's what brought you here, isn't it?" Pike answers.

He starts walking and jerks his head as an indication for Jim to follow him, so Jim follows him, momentarily glancing over his shoulder back at the shuttle, before turning his attention to the path in front of them.

"Still not so sure that's a good thing," he answers, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"You will be, give it time," Pike tells him, and he sounds so sure that Jim thinks he believes him. Or at least believes Pike believes himself. "For now, though, let's just get you set up with a dorm room, and--hang on, did you bring any luggage with you?"

Truth is, Jim didn't have any luggage  _to_  bring. He's sure Pike has at least some idea of that, considering where they met, and how freakishly good this complete stranger seems to be at reading him. But he doesn't feel like getting into any of that, so he just shrugs and says, "Nah."

And, true to Jim's suspicions, Pike doesn't seem all that surprised. A little pained, maybe, but not surprised. "Alright, we had to get you your uniforms anyway, we can do a little extra shopping...probably didn't even bring a toothbrush...Leonard had a toothbrush at least..." he trails off, but Jim doesn't comment because it mostly sounds like Pike is talking to himself. After a second he nods and turns to look over at Jim. "New plan. You have a meeting with the registrations office tomorrow morning, but I think I can get you a dorm room before then. I have work to do now, but some time tomorrow we're going shopping to get you some things."

"Yeah, I've got like 3 credits, man."

"I kind of figured that," Pike says with a soft chuckle. "I'm buying."

"What? No, I can't let you do that."

"And your plan is to...what? Sleep, exercise, and spend rec time in your cadet uniform?"

Jim frowns. He doesn't really have a great counter argument for that, he does need...well, stuff, basic necessities. And he usually leaps at an opportunity for free stuff, but this is a little bit different. Besides he doesn't want some new person, who seems to already be doing him a lot of favors already, spending their hard earned credits on him. Not having a decent argument to Pike's points doesn't stop him from arguing for a good few more minutes, but eventually he caves and Pike tells him to meet him tomorrow so they can get Jim some clothes aside from the uniform. 

Then he leads Jim to a stupid large building, one of many dorm buildings, and they approach the front desk, behind which sit two tired looking cadets. They perk up a little when they spot Pike and Jim approaching, probably wanting to look sharp in front of a Captain. "Good afternoon, Cadets. How's it going?"

"Fine, sir," one of them says, which is echoed by a second, "Fine, sir," from the other. 

Pike nods, a hint of a smile on his face. "I imagine just about everyone's checked in already?"

"Yes, sir," one of the cadets answers with a crisp nod. He's probably about Jim's age, dark brown hair, honestly not bad looking. Were this another situation, Jim might try and hit on him. "Just about everyone, there're a few late comers, though."

"Well, some of them are the med students with first night rounds," the other cadet adds. "But we were sent a list of their names when they arrived, so we were able to mark them off as here."

"I know there were a few dorms not filled up yet," Pike says. "Any of those in your building?"

"Yes, sir. Just three."

"Great. Assign one of those to Cadet Kirk here."

The handsome cadet nods, typing something into a PADD and then glancing up at Pike and Jim. "The cadet's full name?"

"James T. Kirk," Jim answers, grinning and leaning his elbow on the desk. 

"What's the T stand for?" the cadet asks, leaning forward just about as much as Jim had and mirroring his grin. 

"Trouble," Jim says, at the exact same time Pike says, in a remarkably tired voice, "Tiberius."

Jim takes one look at the comically disapproving expression on Pike's face and bursts into laughter; which is fine because the handsome cadet behind the desk is laughing too, and after a second Pike even joins them, although a little less enthusiastically. When he's done chuckling, Pike shakes his head and turns back to the cadet to say, "Just get ole Tiberius here a dorm, please."

"Consider it done," the cadet says. He types something else into the PADD then looks up and says, "There's no Kirk on our roster. Now, because he's with you I'm assuming he's just a late applicant?"

"Yeah, we've got a meeting with registrations tomorrow, just to finish the paperwork off," Pike answers with a nod. "But that's tomorrow, and I don't think it's a very good first impression of the Academy to have the poor guy spend night one on a couch." 

The cadet chuckles at Pike's joke, then turns back to the PADD for a moment before offering it to Pike. "I'm just gonna need your signature and a fingerprint, and we should be able to get Mr. Kirk here a room." 

While Pike is occupied with the PADD, the cadet leans over and half-whispers, "If that doesn't work, I'm sure you could spend the night in my room." 

Jim's about to flirt back when Pike clears his throat and says, "You know I can still you hear you, gentlemen." 

"I was just being polite, sir," the cadet answers, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

Jim stifles a laugh as Pike hands the PADD back over, raising his eyebrow at the cadet, both skeptical and disapproving. The cadet takes the PADD back, fiddles with it for another couple of seconds, then looks up and says, "Alright, Kirk, you're in room CCXXI Delta, that's the fourth floor. Here's a key for now, come back after registration and we'll scan your handprint instead. And, uh, looks like your roomie is one of the med students, so it'll probably be empty when you get there."

"Thank you, Cadet," Pike says. 

"Yeah, thanks," Jim repeats, wagging his eyebrows as he accepts the key. "Hey, I didn't get your name, though." 

"Mitchell, Gary Mitchell." 

"Well, it was  _very_ nice to meet you, Mitchell Gary Mitchell." 

"Just go find your dorm," Pike says with a weary sigh. 

Before he can think better of it, Jim jokes, "Can I take Gary?" 

"No," Pike answers flatly, although Jim thinks he detects a hint of amusement in Pike's face. 

"You're no fun," Jim says, in a tone obvious that he's joking. Actually, this Pike fellow's a lot of fun, at least way more than Jim had been expecting when he first met him. Though to be fair, as much as Jim had been drinking, he wasn't sure he had the best judgement at the time. Whatever. He offers a genuine smile before turning for the stairs to go find the dorm and says, "Seriously, thanks. For everything." 

Pike just gives him a nod, then the two of them split up to go their separate directions. 

The lift is empty when Jim gets in and tells it to take him to the fourth floor. It takes him maybe longer than it should have to find the right door, not that he'll be admitting that to anyone anytime soon, and when he does the place is empty, just like Gary had said it'd be. 

There are two beds, one on each side of the room, both already made up with crisp sheets and two pillows each--at least Jim doesn't have to worry about getting any of that tomorrow--with the Starfleet insignia printed on the bottom left corner of the sheets and pillows.

"Y'know, just in case you don't know where you are," Jim jokes to himself, rolling his eyes as he looks around the rest of the room. 

Just past the beds is a wall and a door, which he guesses lead to a bathroom. There's a pair of desks against the wall by the door, and the wall opposite the beds has two dressers lined up against it. For the most part it looks empty, no one's added any personal touches yet, and Jim's the only one there so far. But he can't help but love it, it's the first time in a long time he's had a bed and roof over his head that he's sure he can come back to, and feel safe in. 

Smiling, or rather beaming, Jim drops onto the bed nearest the door without bothering to take his boots off. He folds his arms behind his head and stares up at the ceiling, "This might just work."

It lasts a whole of about three minutes, that relaxing, hopeful feeling. But staring at a blank ceiling doesn't give a person a lot to think about, and Jim's mind starts to wander. This is the first moment of calm and being alone he's had since getting on the shuttle in the Riverside Shipyard, and it's just dawning on him...he's at Starfleet Academy. He's at Starfleet Academy, and in the morning he has a meeting with the registration office to sign up for classes at Starfleet Academy. Last night he was at a shitty dive bar in Iowa, how the hell did he end up here? 

Here. At the same school his father went to, where he will graduate and join the same organization his father worked for (and later died for.) He briefly wonders whether or not George Kirk ever visited this building, hell maybe he even stayed in it, Jim doesn't know. It shouldn't really freak him out, but for some reason it does. 

He doesn't want to dwell on that, in fact he's practically made it his job not to think about George Kirk. So instead he tries to think about his classes. Which doesn't work, really, because he doesn't have any classes yet. He won't until tomorrow. Will he even like his classes? 

Sighing impatiently, Jim sits up and jumps off the bed. He starts to walk a couple steps before he realizes he doesn't have anywhere to go, so he paces back and forth a couple of times before sitting back down. It occurs to him that he can still leave. He hasn't registered for any classes yet, he could just slip out of this building and no one but Pike would really even notice. It would just be a free, albeit stressful, trip to San Francisco.

But that's not entirely true, he can't just leave. Pike dared him. He's never backed down from a dare before in his life, and he's sure as hell not starting now. Which is way easier than admitting that, maybe, he does kind of want to see if any of that potential he used to think he had is still there. If maybe Pike is right, about everything; he's meant for something more, and Starfleet can help him get there. 

He used to think like that. He doesn't really know what happened. 

"I need music," he says to himself, shaking his head and turning towards the PADD on the desk nearest to him. It's possible Starfleet has some sort of protocol set up so the students can only use them for work, which is obviously what they're there for, but Jim doesn't doubt he can find a way around it if need be. Which would actually make for an even better distraction than just the music.

There's no protocol. He's able to turn the thing on and get a connection like that, and it's not hard to find some music that he likes. Within seconds he's got the thing blasting  _Jump Around_  by the classical band House of Pain. 

"Good music," Jim says, nodding his head along to the beat as he picks up the PADD, sitting cross-legged atop the desk rather than in the provided chair. 

Eventually a few other cadets from the hall show up at his left open door, and he thinks they're going to complain about the volume, but instead they just compliment his music taste and make themselves comfortable in the room. Jim welcomes the company, even if he does forgot a couple names right after they're said, and they all relax in the dorm for the better part of an hour. He gets invited to a couple mixers for the different departments that are apparently happening in the next few days, but eventually everyone leaves and he's alone again.

But only for a few minutes, then the door slides open again and someone walks in, sighing heavily and dropping a bag on the floor. Jim glances over to see who he assumes must be his roommate from how they came in and sees---the guy from the shuttle? Shit, what was his name again?

"Bones!" Jim chimes the first thing he thinks of, very sure that that's not this person's name. Although if it was that would be pretty damn cool. He was maybe just a little too hungover on the shuttle to remember names that well, but he remembers almost everything else. Doctor, divorced doctor, grumpy but in an endearing way, pretty funny. "Are we roommates?"

"Apparently," Bones grumbles, infinitely less enthusiastically than Jim, stumbling towards the bathroom. "Also, that's not my name."

"It's a cooler name," Jim says, still grinning. 

"You forgot my name, didn't you?" Bones says, ducking into the bathroom, and Jim hears the sink turn on. "Would you turn down that music?"

"I did  _not_ forget your name," Jim says, cranking the music down a little. "It's...starts with an L...Leroy? Yeah, you're Leroy McCoy. Great name." 

"Leonard," Bones corrects, which Jim was right, Bones is wayyy cooler. 

"Whatever you say, Leroy," Jim says. Then, "Mine's Jim, just in case."

"I would much prefer Bones to Leroy."

"Bones it is!"

"No, that wasn't permiss--Don't call me Bones, it's Leonard." 

"Not even Leo?"

Bones just gives him a disapproving glare as he stumbles out of the bathroom, now dressed in a ratty old t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms. Once he's taken the time to glare at Jim, he drops face first onto his bed, which Jim tries very hard not to laugh at. He only mostly succeeds. Muffled by the pillow, Leonard mumbles, "No."

Jim gets up off the floor and moves to sit on his own bed, asking, "How about 'Nerd? Got a nice ring to it." 

Bones lifts his head up off the pillow to give Jim an even angrier glare than before, which Jim answers with a ridiculously bright smile. Bones answers, "You are a terrible roommate, and I hate you," before promptly smacking his face back into the pillows. Jim doesn't even try to hide his laughter this time. 

After a second, Bones sits back up to look over at Jim, his eyebrows furrowed in what was either surprise or concern or maybe a little bit of both. "Why are you still wearing that bloody shirt?" 

Jim glances down at the stains on his shirt. Honestly, he'd forgotten they were there. He can't help but joke, "Already asking me to take off my shirt? At least buy me dinner first, Bones."

"Don't call me Bones," Bones says, sighing and sitting up a little further. "And I'm not hitting on you, you infant, I just think you should wear clean clothes."

"Maybe it's my aesthetic?" Jim tries.

"Did you not, I dunno, pack clothes?" Bones asks, and Jim shrugs and shakes his head. "Why the hell not? I mean, I got you signed up last minute, but didn't you think you'd need a few things at a four year Academy?" 

"I just don't have any things, that's all," Jim says, shrugging again and moving to lay back on his bed. It wasn't entirely true, he has a few things; a paper photo of his brother Sam, a rock Tommy had given him what feels like a lifetime ago, the U.S.S. Kelvin saltshaker from Pike. But all that fits in his pockets, so he doesn't count it as luggage exactly. He glances over at Bones and starts to think he should've just danced around the subject, Bones looks concerned and Jim didn't want to get into that on the first night of rooming together. He doesn't want to get into it at all. "It's not a big deal, I'll go shopping tomorrow."

Bones looks like he's fighting the urge to disagree, but he seems to succeed. Still, he gets up and starts towards the bags he'd left by the door earlier. "Well, you're not sleeping in those clothes. Here, I'll lend you something." 

"You really don't have to--" Jim starts, but he's cut off as a t-shirt hits him smack in the face. He opens his mouth to protest further, which is right when a pair of sweatpants follow suit, hitting him in the head. One of the legs dangles in front of his face, obstructing his vision, and he just murmurs, "Thanks, I guess." 

"Don't mention it," Bones says, already dropping back into bed. He takes the time to get under the covers this time. 

Jim shrugs and changes, leaving his dirty clothes in a pile on the floor by the nightstand, and climbs into bed as well. He switches off the lamp by his head and Bones does the same, and it's dark and quiet again. 

Maybe it's because he's exhausted, maybe it's because he's not by himself anymore, but the nerves don't show up again and Jim finds himself drifting off to sleep with a distinct excitement for tomorrow. Half asleep already, he mutters, "'Night, Bones."

"Don't call me Bones."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol i'm rewriting the version of this i posted b4, sorry to those of u who were reading that one!! i lowkey forgot where i was going with it, so new start. hope u like!!


End file.
